CSI: New York
by Juliet Hummel-Anderson
Summary: AU. Kurt Hummel is the head of the NYPD crime lab, aka the CSI- crime scene investigation. His right hand woman is Rachel Berry, and he has his team, and it's all he needs. That is, until a forensic science teacher wants to join the CSI...Blaine Anderson.
1. Sneerleader, Part 1

**Welcome all to CSI: New York. Except it's the cast of Glee in my own little fanfiction. Which remind me, I'm not an expert in forensic science, so don't flame saying things are inaccurate. I'm trying, okay? And I don't own Glee.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sneerleader, Part 1<strong>_

The blonde cheerleader jumped up and down bubbly, making sure to plaster a huge smile on her face. In reality, she felt like crap. The football team, the Oxford Lions, battling it out on the feild needed her. She was captain. She felt her stomach clench again and she groaned.

"Amber?" One of her friends asked, looking at the cheerleader clutching her stomach. Amber looked over at her friend shaking her pom poms and shook her head. The other cheerleader handed her a bottle of water. Upon taking one sip, she promptly fell to thr ground.

"Oh my God!" Her friend shouted, brown hair falling from her ponytail. "Coach Newman! Coach Newman!"

The coach ran over, grabbing the girl's wrist. "No pulse," she said with a sigh. The cheerleaders gasped and some began crying dramatically. "I'll call the police and an ambulance."

* * *

><p>Kurt Hummel slammed the door of his navigator, pushing his Fossil sunglasses to the tip of his nose to look condescendingly at the high school. It looked like a prep school for kids with lots of money. He sighed and turned around to see one of his top forensic serologists, and one of his best friends, Rachel Berry behind him. He grinned.<p>

"Death of a cheerleader in Oxford High School. Last night, she was feeling bad, and one of her friends gave her some water. She was dead before she hit the ground," Rachel said to him, frowning.

"Did you get the water bottle to send to the lab?" Kurt asked, looking around at the expensive cars in the parking lot. They began walking towards the enterance of the school. Rachel nodded.

"Puck will get the results back ASAP," Rachel said as she opened a heavy door leading to the hallways of the high school. "I hated high school," she muttered, and Kurt snorted, his tight pants appearing to be painted on.

"I hear at this school they teach forensic science," he began, "I'd love to meet the teacher."

The principal approached them and said kindly, "Hello, my name is Quinn Fabray, you can call me Quinn. I'm the principal of this high school," she said softly. She was truly gorgeous. Her blonde hair was in a bun at the nape of her neck, and her make-up was classily and professionally done. And in a black pencil skirt and pink blouse she looked even more beautiful. If Kurt was straight in any sense of the word, he'd be falling over himself.

Rachel stuck out her chest a little (she wasn't jealous at all) and stuck her hand out, "I'm Rachel Berry, forensic scientist. Pleasure. So, what happened excactly?"

Quinn frowned and said softly, leading them down the hallway, where Kurt and Rachel saw groups of students in black place candles and notes at the memorial. To their amazement, not many people looked exceptionally sad. Quinn stopped when reaching another hallway and turned back to face the forensic scientists. "Coming?"

"Can we ask some students some questions?" Kurt asked, peering at the adolescents.

"Sure. But be nice, please, they're going through a rough time," Quinn said, opening up a door. Inside the pair could see a short man with curly hair animatedly teaching some kind of science class. "I'll call out some of her friends." She walked into the small classroom, leaving Rachel and Kurt to hang awkwardly in the hallway, and the teacher turned to Quinn.

"Hello Miss Fabray," he said, and with a jolt Kurt realized he was quite attractive. "What brings you to my humble forensic science abode?" His students laughed.

Quinn smiled thinly, and said, "Could I see Kimberly Amason and Veronica Smythe, Mr. Anderson?"

Mr. Anderson's smile faded and he solemnly said, "Sure. Kimberly, Ronnie, you guys better go with her. I'll transfer the make-up work to my website."

A tiny brunette girl and a tall, slender redhead stood and walked to the door. When they say Kurt and Rachel, they were taken aback.

"Who are you guys?" The redhead said in a lilting voice, looking disdainfully at Rachel, who cleared her throat.

"I'm Rachel Berry and this is Kurt Hummel, and we're part of the NYPD forensic lab," Rachel said, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear, and tried to look intimidating.

"Oh God, you're here about Amber," the brunette groaned, rolling her eyes. "Everyone blames me because it was my water bottle. I didn't do it, okay? Why would I kill my best friend?" Rachel's eyes widened.

"Kimberly," the other girl sighed. "You talk way too much." Turning to Kurt, she said loudly, "I'm sorry about Kimberly. She's just pissed because after Amber died her boyfriend wouldn't hook up with her."

Kurt raised his eyebrows. "This doesn't seem like an accident."

"Murder, anyone?" Rachel smirked.

* * *

><p><em>My name's Kurt Hummel. I'm the head of the NYPD forensic crime lab, aka the CSI- crime scene investigation. My right hand woman is Rachel Berry, the one and only. Then there's our lab rat and major player, Noah Puckerman. He's pretty cool, if I do say so myself. Then there's Santana, our autopsy expert, who is as lethal as cyanide.<em>

_My stepbrother Finn Hudson and Mercedes Jones are our two other field scientists. I always dreamed of Broadway in high school, which I never thought I'd revisit, by the way. And a murdered head cheerleader? Sounds like normal high school to me. I guess not to Quinn...or the authorities..._

* * *

><p>"Hey, Puckerman, what's the deal with the water bottle? Anything abnormal in it?" Kurt asked snappily, turning over a few pages containing the biography of Amber Daniel, and info on all of her friends."This Amber girl wasn't well-liked apparently. She and her best friends ruled the school with an iron fist. I see how'd she have a fair share of enemies."<p>

"Well, she shouldn't have died, she was smoking," Puck pointed out helpfully. "Anyway, in the bottle I found traces of silver and postassium cyanide, which is found in kinds of substances used for refinishing furniture. Were any of her friends' parents furniture refinishers?"

"No, Kimberly's mom is a teacher and her dad is lawyer. And Veronica's dad is unemployed, whom she lives with. Mom died last year. Aw, poor girl, no wonder she's so nasty..." Kurt mused. "There's only one furniture refinsher in town, Harrison Gray. He redid my mom's vanity for my apartment. He's good."

Puck grinned. "Well, is he single? Cause you need to get out more..."

Kurt rolled his eyes and said, "He's straight, married, and old. Not interested in being a poolboy."

* * *

><p>"So, Mr. Anderson, what can you tell us about Amber? Was she a good student, friendly?" Rachel asked, raising her eyebrows at the laid-back teacher.<p>

"Call me Blaine," he grinned, "I know people say it all the time but Mr. Anderson is my father. Well, Amber always seemed to pay attention in my class, but other teachers say she would text, talk, and zone out during other classes. And to be honest, she never was nice to anyone but that boyfriend of hers, Zachary Gray. Oh, boy, that kid is a firecracker. They made a pair," Blaine chuckled to himself.

Well, Rachel could certainly see why she paid attention in his class. He was absolutely gorgeous. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and asked, "About Zach. How is he duing school? Any family problems or anything?"

Blaine sighed and ran a hand through his unruly hair, saying, "Well, he has a sister. Hannah. Amber absolutely torments her. I talked to the other faculty members about it, but no one seemed to really care. They're like, if you're unpopular, your life is going to be miserable. It really pisses me off."

Rachel nods slowly, staring into Blaine's eyes, who notices the familiar look and clears his throat. "Rachel? I am gay, you know."

That only made Rachel smile wider. "Great. That's fabulous, actually. I know I'm here for Amber, but you teach forensic science. Do you like it?"

"Man, I love it. I wish I could be an actual forensic scientist, but you know, hopeless dream and all that..." Blaine trailed off, leaving Rachel's smile as wide as it could ever be.

"Well, keep in touch, Blaine, and thanks for the info about Amber."

* * *

><p>Kurt knocked slowly on the door to <em>HARRISON GRAY'S FURNITURE REFINISHING<em> and grinned when the weathered man opened up the door.

"Kurt," he smiled, pulling him into a hug. "How's your father?"

"Being himself," Kurt laughed. "How are you? I know you used to work for him and all."

"I'm trying to support the kids," he smiled sadly. "Ever since Martha walked away they've been different. Hannah's sulking, Zach's rebelling, I don't know what to do." Leading him into the shop, he asked, "Coffee?"

"No thanks," Kurt smiled. "Do you know an Amber Daniel?"

The older man stopped. Kurt narrowed his eyes and asked again. "Do you know Amber?"

The usually twinkly blue eyes were dull. "Yes," he admitted. "Zach's girlfriend and Hannah's worst nightmare. I know her. She's an awful, awful girl."

"She's dead," Kurt said bluntly.

"Oh," the older man said, sounding unusually happy. Kurt was immediately suspicious. "Well, that's...awful..."

"Can I go upstairs to speak to your children?" The fashionable forensic scientist asked catiously. Harrison nodded and pointed to the winding staircase leading up to the Gray's home. Kurt stood and made his way upstairs, and once reaching the living room, he saw Zach sprawled across the couch watching reruns of SNL.

He cleared his throat. "How're you holding up?" Kurt asked.

"I'm fine, the girl was a bitch," Zach said simply. "She was rude, tormented Hannah and the entire student body, and really pissed off her best friend. Who is really hot, but I'm pretty sure there's a rule in the bro code saying you can't hook up with another girl untli two weeks after your girlfriend dies."

Kurt rolled his eyes and snapped, "And in the imaginary bro code I'm pretty sure there's a rule about being sad after you kill your girlfriend."

"Whoa, dude, I didn't kill her," Zach said, brushing brown hair out his face, and batting his baby blues. "I kinda liked her and she was good in bed. Killing her off would be a waste of sex on legs."

"You're such a Puck," Kurt groaned. "Where's you sister?"

"In her room," Zachmumbled. Kurt walked down the narrow hallway to find a short, thin, sullen looking girl with thick glasses sitting on her bed, writing furiously.

"Knock, knock," Kurt smiled, looking at the freshman curiously. "I need to show you some make-up tips, you could be gorgeous."

Hannah looked up, and smiled softly. "I heard about Amber. I suppose I'm being questioned now? I don't have the guts to kill anyone, let alone the resources. I mean, my dad refinishes furniture. It's not like he's a rocket scientist."

Kurt smiled softly. "What do you want to be when you grow up, Hannah?"

"A pharmacist," Hannah said automatically.

"Do you enjoy reading pharmceutical books?" Kurt asked, eying the large stack of them on her writing desk in one of the corners of her room.

"Yes, of course," Hannah said softly, pushing her long, dark brown hair out of her face. "Why?"

"So, you are aware that cyanide, found in substances used to refinish furniture, can kill in milliseconds?" Kurt asked quickly.

Hannah nods. "Yes, of course. Why?"

"Amber was killed using cyanide," Kurt glared.

"I swear to God I didn't kill her."

* * *

><p>Blaine stood nervously at the front door of the CSI crime lab, then knocked. Kurt, looking fabulous in leather (and wow, he was as hot as Blaine remembered.) He gaped for a moment before saying, "Hi."<p>

"Hello?" Kurt said, though it sounded more like a question.

"Um, I came here to talk to you and Rachel about something. May I come in?"

_To be continued..._


	2. Sneerleader, Part 2

Blaine looked nervously around the stainless steel appliances in the kitchen of the lab. "I won't find any body parts in here, will I?" He joked cautiously.

Kurt, who had leaned against the edge of the counter, rolled his eyes and tucked his hand into the (very small) of his (very tight) leather pants. Normally he wouldn't wear leather when at work, but today he felt like dressing up. He was going for badass chic. Ironic considering his job experience. "No, different kitchen. Want some Jack Daniels?"

Blaine's triangular eyebrows shot up to his hairline, and he shook his head. "Little too strong. Have any bottled water?"

"You're no fun," Kurt deadpanned, before walking to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water, half frozen. Blaine took a swig and placed it on the island in the center of the kitchen. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"You and Rachel," Blaine corrected. "Um, she came to interview me and I can't stop thinking about it."

"Well, anything you tell Rachel will be told to me, so I'll pass along the info," Kurt smirked.

"Well, I'd kind of like Rachel to be here, too..." Blaine mumbled.

"Maybe you are straight," Kurt said a little too loudly.

Blaine looked up with a jolt. "I'm not straight, trust me!"

Rachel picked this time to enter the kitchen, humming to herself. She looked at the two men and raised her eyebrows. "Mr. Anderson, what are you doing here?" She locked eyes with Kurt. "Visiting Kurt?"

Blaine blushed (honest to goodness blushed. Kurt couldn't believe it) and said, "Well, that's a benefit, but actually I came to see both of you. I want a job here."

Kurt raised his eyebrows. "And you think you're qualified because you teach forensics? Wow, I actually thought you'd be intelligent," he said sarcastically. "You are aware you have to be a policeman for a good while before you can be a forensic scientist?"

Blaine cursed. "Damn. Well, I'll just leave then..." He trailed off his sentence.

Rachel stopped him, "Wait! Maybe we can work something out. I'll talk to the head of this crime scene unit, and I'll ask-"

"I'M the head of this crime scene unit," Kurt looked at her. "And I say no way."

"I'll take it higher, then," Rachel countered, "And I'll ask the police chief of New York City!"

Blaine looked absolutely giddy, and his smile was infectious. "I can't even begin to thank you guys! Thank you! So much!"

Kurt almost smiled. Almost.

* * *

><p><em>My name's Kurt Hummel. I'm the head of the NYPD forensic crime lab, aka the CSI- crime scene investigation. My right hand woman is Rachel Berry, the one and only. Then there's our lab rat and major player, Noah Puckerman. He's pretty cool, if I do say so myself. Then there's Santana, our autopsy expert, who is as lethal as cyanide.<em>

_My stepbrother Finn Hudson and Mercedes Jones are our two other field scientists. I can't stand new recruits, especially in the middle of big cases. I suppose Anderson will work, though I'm not happy about it..._

* * *

><p>Santana brushed a piece of her hair behind her ear as she put the sterile safety gloves on her hands. She grabbed the required tools and continued the autopsy. Kurt snuck up behind her to admire the cut-open body of Amber Daniel on the autopsy table. "What's going on?"<p>

She turned around and nearly smacked him, but she didn't want to spread this chick's blood all over his porcelain face. Then again, maybe she should hit him. "What's up, Hummel, is that she has obvious traces of cyanide in her body. And if you look at her trachea, you'll see evidence of acid erosion, possibly caused by the cyanide. It's official, she was killed by cyanide."

"Traces of cyanide were found in the bottle, and right now Puck's analyzing the fingerprints on the bottle with our suspects fingerprints...I hope we get a good lead soon. The courts are getting impatient," Kurt said.

"Well, if you ask me, that Kelly chick or whatever friend of Amber's looked really suspicious," Santana grinned. "I mean, I wish I had the guts to kill someone back in high school before I figuratively 'straightened up', even though the only straight I am is straight up bitch. I think she'd do it. She gave her the bottle, right?"

"Kimberly gave her the bottle, but Veronica seemed to be the HBIC," Kurt remembered. "I'll check it out, thanks for your not-so-needed opinions as always, Santana."

"Welcome, Lady Lips," she winked. "Hey, I saw that Hobbit in the lobby last night. He's fine. Is he your new 'guy friend'?"

Kurt shook his head. "I haven't dated in a long time, Santana."

"You need to get laid, it's why you're so uptight. I'd go for it," she grinned.

"You go for anything on legs."

"Anything female on legs."

* * *

><p>Puck handed Rachel a stack of papers. Beside her, Mercedes was talking hurriedly to Finn about something. "Is this the result from the fingerprints?" Rachel questioned, blinking her large brown eyes.<p>

He nodded. "Three fingerprints were found on the bottle. Kimberly Amason, Amber Daniel, and Harrison Gray."

Rachel's eyebrows raised. "The furniture refinisher?"

"Indeed."

Rachel shook her head. "I was convinced it was Zach. Kurt told me about his uncaring and I guessed it was a sign of guilt. I can't believe it. Why would Harrison kill her? What motive would a man have for killing his son's girlfriend?"

* * *

><p>Kurt and Rachel knocked again on the front door of HARRISON GRAY'S FURNITURE REFINISHING. He answered, a concerned look on his face. "Why, hello, Kurt! What brings you here?"<p>

"Your fingerprints were on the bottle that Amber drank from when she died," Kurt said bluntly.

Harrison paled. "Please, come in, and I'll explain."

He led them to a small sitting room area upstairs and sat them down. Harrison began, "I didn't mean to kill Amber. I meant to kill Kimberly."

Kurt gaped. "Why?" He couldn't believe this man was admitting this. He turned to Rachel and realized she shared the same sentiment.

"It was my turn to bring drinks for the team and cheerleaders. She knew Zach had a girlfriend, and would randomly show up at our house, trying to sleep with him. I was sick of it. It was only supposed to make her sick, not kill her. And when Kimberly gave Amber her bottle...it killed her. I...I'm so sorry..."

"We have to arrest you," Rachel said sadly. "You have the right to remain silent, anything you do or say will be used in court."

"My kids," he said suddenly, "Martha is gone. Where will they go?"

Kurt ignored the question, to his own dismay, and led the man out of the door.

* * *

><p>Blaine looked in awe at the two forensic scientists. "So, he just admitted it? Just like that?"<p>

Rachel nodded. "I guess he figured he could only keep up the charade for so long."

"He was always smart," Kurt said, looking down.

"You knew him?" Blaine asked, attempting to make some coffee in the kitchen of the crime lab. Kurt looked at him tearfully and said, "Old family friend." He nodded, and grabbed some mugs out of the cabinets for the coffee.

"Do you want some coffee?" Blaine asked.

Kurt nodded, taking the cup graciously. The mug had tiny little mustaches on it. He grinned as he took a sip. "I guess I should say welcome on board, Blaine. The police chief must have liked you, because I've never heard of him allowing someone to be a forensic scientist without police training...well, except one case."

"Yeah, Sebastian seemed really nice," Blaine grinned naively. Kurt nearly spat out his coffee and Rachel's eyes widened.

"First name basis?" She squeaked.

"Was he humming Uptown Girl under his breath?" Kurt asked calmly, though his eyes were flashing murderously. He and Rachel locked eyes and communicated 'telepathically'. Truth is they could just read each other well.

Blaine nodded. "Yeah!"

"Fabulous," Kurt glared, wanting to punch something. "Absolutely fabulous."


	3. Ike's Point

**Anything you recognize goes to Jeremy Brown. Don't sue. And I apologize for it being so short.**

* * *

><p><em>Ike's Point<em>

"Ready for the mountains sweetie?" Charlotte Haney said, smiling sweetly at her husband. Her long brown hair was pulled into a high ponytail and her blue sundress was swaying in the wind. "I hear that the view from Ike's Point is gorgeous." Ike's Point was three hours outside of New York.

Ted nodded, face sunburned, and reached for his wife's hand as he drove up the steady slope. Finally they reached the top of the cliff, where the two climbed out of the car to admire the view. Charlotte cursed before running back to get the camera in the backseat. Ted could barely turn around before he heard her scream as the vehicle began it's speedy roll to the edge of the cliff.

Tears filled his eyes as his wife fell down the cliff. He quickly called 911, hoping something could be done.

* * *

><p>"...And then I said, "Young lady, what would your mother think?" Blaine grinned, holding a cup of coffee. Kurt was in stitches. Blaine was hilarious, and as much as he hated to admit it, pretty good at this whole forensics thing. He barely had to show him around before Blaine knew excactly what to do and at what time to do it. He was impressive.<p>

"Blaine," Kurt started, but then Finn walked into the lab, a worried look on his face.

"A lady was in a car that fell off a cliff and her husband just called the authorities. He was the only witness, so they want us to investigate to see if it was intetional."

"Intentional," Kurt corrected fondly. Finn was his step-brother, and it was hard to keep that out of work. The whole family thing, not to mention Kurt's used-to-be-crush, complicated things. "Okay, you and Mercedes are on it."

"Thanks, man!" Finn grinned dopily. "Can Rachel come?"

Kurt sighed, rolling his eyes at Finn's schoolboy crush. "No, Rachel has to stay here to help testify against Harrison in court. I'm working with Blaine, so you and Mercedes are going alone."

The tall man sighed and walked out of the room, grabbing his gear on the way out. Blaine looked at Kurt curiously. "What were you going to say?"

"Nevermind," Kurt mumbled, standing. "I've got to go do...something."

"Right," Blaine said, smiling. "I'll let you go make yourself look busy."

Kurt glared snarkily before walking out, Blaine watching him leave.

* * *

><p>Puck handed Mercedes a printout from the gas chromatographmass spectrometer, and she took it without hesistation. "What is this an analysis of?"

"The two samples are from the remains of the backseat of Charlotte Haney's car," Puck grinned. "The two samples are identical. Both have high amounts of zinc oxide and titanium oxide."

"That's found in...sunscreen?" Mecedes guessed, unfamiliar with the two chemicals.

"Correct-o-mundo," Puck grinned. "My guess is that Charlotte was wearing sunscreen when she was attempting to get the camera."

"Was she?" Mercedes asked.

"Santana is looking over the body," Puck snarked playfully, "Not me. I'd go ask Rachel, she was just talking to Santana. Or you could ask her yourself, whatever. Your life."

* * *

><p>Kurt was home alone, watching reruns of 'I Love Lucy' when his doorbell rang. At his door was Blaine, looking frazzled, his clothes mussed, and large bruise on his neck. Or is that...? Kurt didn't want to ask. "Blaine? What are you doing here?"<p>

"Sebastian," Blaine muttered before sprinting into Kurt's apartment and sitting gingerly on the couch.

The older male looked concernedly at Blaine. "What happened, and why are you here, and how did you get my address?"

Blaine looked up with such a heartbreakingly desperate look that Kurt's heart broke for the first time in a year. Being a forensic scientist means you have to toughen yourself up. Unfortunately, Kurt sometimes felt like felt nothing at all. Numb. That is, until Blaine marched himself into the CSI lab.

"I told him that I didn't think us going a date was a good idea," Blaine said softly. "Then he practically lip-raped me to try and 'convince' me..." He felt tears well up in his eyes and he just started crying, Kurt at his side in an instant.

"Hey, hey, hey..." Kurt said, rubbing his arm awkwardly. "I know how you feel. He used me, too. Apparently he has a thing for young and naive newbies...thanks to him I am neither young nor naive."

"How could they hire someone so seedy as the police chief?" Blaine sobbed. "I didn't want that!"

Kurt pulled him close, something out of character for him, and let him cry on his shoulder. "Do you want to stay the night? It's a little late for you to go home. It's New York after all. After dark it gets bad."

Blaine looked in Kurt's eyes and some kind of unspoken agreement resounded. "Okay. I'll stay."

Kurt felt like Blaine was a puppy- give them food once and they keep coming back. In this case, he secretly hoped that Blaine would come back.

* * *

><p>Santana was looking curiously at Charlotte. She was tanned and sunburned, no evidence of sunscreen used. Finn was almost glaring at the body. "Why is she so sunburned? Was there any sunscreen found on her skin?"<p>

The Latina shook her head. "Absolutely not. But Ted identified this as his wife's body, so it has to be her."

Finn cocked his head to the side and sighed. "But the thingy Mercedes gave me says that the body in the car had sunscreen on it. Maybe it's not really her."

Santana shrugged. "Mercedes is in the interview room. You can go ask."

He walked out of the autopsy room and down a few hallways to the interrogation room. Mercedes had pulled out her game face and was grilling Ted like a hamburger. Speaking of which, that reminded Finn how hungry he was...

"I already told you!" Ted said. "She got into the backseat to get the camera, the car started rolling, and I didn't realized until it was too late..."

"At what point did you push the car?" Mercedes asked. "Or did you just knock her unconscious and take your time rolling it down the cliff?"

"'Cedes," Finn sighed. "Mr. Haney, was your wife wearing sunscreen?"

Ted shook his head. "Neither of us wear it."

Mercedes looked in confusion. "But the samples from your car contains zinc oxide and titantium oxide, elements found in sunscreen."

Ted looked startled. "That's odd. We never wear sunscreen."

"I just have one more question," Mercedes asked. "Where is your wife now, and why does she want us to think she's dead?"

"What?" Ted gaped.

"The body isn't your wife," Finn said sadly. "Charlotte is alive and well somewhere, and she's wearign sunscreen. Ted, I'm very sorry. Would you like us to search for her?"

Mercedes peered at Ted. "You can sue, you are aware?"

"Please slow down," he mumbled, cradling his head in his hands. "I need to think a moment."

"Just let us know."

* * *

><p>Blaine looked confusedly over the case notes. "So, she's not dead? You guys were investigating a murder that wasn't a murder, and now isn't a death?"<p>

"Apparently," Kurt said, raising his eyebrows. "What a waste of time."

"Tell me about it," Finn mumbled.

Mercedes groaned. She was on the phone with a branch of the NYPD that specialized in missing people. "Okay, thank you for your help." She hung up. "I gave them the DNA samples, but they said it would take a little while to process, let alone locate her. Ted Haney will just have to be patient."

"I feel bad for the guy," Rachel said quietly. "Losing a wife is hard, but then suddenly found out she isn't dead and she wants you to think she is? Poor man."

Kurt nodded slowly. "Well, the past is the past. Let's focus on something else now."

Blaine shrugged and said awkwardly, "Nice weather today?"

* * *

><p><strong>Next time...<strong>

_And why does Kurt feel jealous when he sees the tall, blonde Abercrombie flirt shamelessly with him in that stupid coffee shop? It's not like Blaine's his boyfriend or anything. It's not like Kurt even likes Blaine in any sense of the word. The words Blaine and boyfriend in the same sentence send butterflies to Kurt's stomach. Damn Anderson's stupid hazel eyes and olive skin. Damn him._

**Review?**


	4. Wrong Side of the Tracks

**I'm sorry for the last one being so short. I tried to make this case a little longer.**

* * *

><p><em>Wrong Side of the Tracks<em>

Caleb was driving home, slamming on the gas, and generally muttering to himself. Honestly, people infuriated him. He groaned as he came to the red light in the pouring rain. The guitar player cursed and leant back in his seat, listening to the pitter patter of the rain. He looked to his right and saw the familiar railroad tracks beside the poorly paved road, leading into Don & Lee's trailer park on his way into the bigger, more active part of New York. He quickly looked away, knowing that Little-Miss-Perfect-Haley was giving clothes to the kids that lived there.

He gulped as the red light turned green and his phone lit up with a call. Without looking at the caller ID he answered, "Hello?"

"Oh God," he heard a ragged breath say, "Caleb, please help me, I was-" A sob escaped through the sound of heavy rain and bad connection. "Come help me, please come save me, please," Haley sobbed, sounding absolutely crushed. He felt his heart drop in his chest as he heard his best friend cry out through the phone.

"Where are you?" Caleb demanded, hazel eyes fiery, ready to turn the car around. Haley managed to get out the street name and Caleb swerved the car around in someone's driveway. He probably would've plowed through some people if he hadn't tried to keep a somewhat cool head. He drove down the muddy street into the poorly lit trailer park, gasping as he saw a tall person hovered over a small figure. He sped up and and immediately pressed the breaks upon realizing it was Haley.

Caleb jumped out of the car without even putting on a jacket, or grabbing an umbrella, before running to Haley. She was covered in blood, though whose, Caleb wasn't sure. She looked horrible, and the tall figure hovering over her seemed to be either helping or hurting her. He assumed the latter and kneed him quickly in the groin before picking up Haley and putting her in the passenger seat of his white truck. Hannah was still crying, mud, rain, and blood running down her pale face.

She seemed to be clutching her side, and Caleb buckled her in before turning the car on, trying to warm her up. With the rain, it was nearly ten degrees outside and it appeared Haley was only wearing a light hoodie. "What the hell happened?" Caleb asked, panicking as Haley leaned foward, moaning in pain.

"I delivered to someone's house from school," she gasped out, "and they had a problem with me in the past, and well, they stole all of my clothes to deliver," here she let out a ragged breath, "and when I tried to protest they pulled a knife out and stabbed me in the," Haley let some tears out, "side. I haven't stopped bleeding, get me to a doctor."

Caleb was already on it, mentally locating the nearest emergency room. Looking sideways at Hannah, he managed to get out a few words, all mumbled together, "I-It'll be okay, trust me, I'll take care of you."

"You," Haley gasped, "better. If I die tonight I'm not sure if my parents will forgive you," and then she laughed brokenly.

The word die sent chills to Caleb's core, and he pressed harder on the gas pedal, praying his truck wouldn't fail him. "Haley," Caleb managed to say, "You aren't going to die. I promise."

Haley began laughing and Caleb seriously wanted to check her for head trauma, but then she choked out, hands coated in her own blood, "If I die right you...you can't really-" She coughed viciously. "-stop me."

Caleb, though he was driving turned to look at her. "You aren't going to die."

Haley smiled softly, her short blonde hair falling into her face. "In case I do, just know I love you. A lot."

Caleb felt tears well up in the back of his eyes and quickly ignored them, pulling into the parking lot. "Dammit we're here," Caleb said thickly, tears threatening to fall. He opened his car door and scooped Haley into his arms, comforted by the steady pulse he felt coming from her wrist. She began coughing again and he ran faster, the chilly rain drenching them both. Once reaching the inside of the emergency waiting room, he screamed at the receptionist, "Get a doctor, now!"

Everything was happening a blur, Caleb noted, as Haley was taken from him to be placed on a gurney. She looked especially small and pale, and his heart clenched at the thought. He shook away those thoughts and tried to follow the gurney but some nurses stopped him, saying something about 'critcal condition' and that he 'needed to wait here until they called him back'.

Once sitting down, he realized he should probably call her parents. He hoped they knew what she was up to. Was her car in the trailer park still? Eventually Caleb had to close his eyes to prevent all of the memories from flooding back to him. He took a gulp of air and just relaxed. But he knew it was a facade. He wouldn't be at rest for a long, long time.

"Mr. Adams?" He heard a voice say, and he looked up.

"Yeah?" He said, rubbing his eyes. He must've fallen asleep.

"We've contacted the girl's parents," the nurse said, her hair in a short blonde bob, though her face looked grim. "They're on their way. I assume you're a close friend of Haley?"

Caleb winced, standing up, then immediately feeling dizzy. "Can I see her?"

The nurse's resolve broke and she said softly, "I'm...I'm sorry, she didn't...she didn't make it."

* * *

><p><em>My name's Kurt Hummel. I'm the head of the NYPD forensic crime lab, aka the CSI- crime scene investigation. My right hand woman is Rachel Berry, the one and only. Then there's our lab rat and major player, Noah Puckerman. He's pretty cool, if I do say so myself. Then there's Santana, our autopsy expert, who is as lethal as cyanide.<em>

_My stepbrother Finn Hudson and Mercedes Jones are our two other field scientists. It always makes me sad when a teenager dies, but for some reason this one hits close to home. My only question is this: who exactly would kill a girl trying to give out clothes?_

* * *

><p>Kurt looked at the scene before him. Daylight had just broken, because as soon as the police got a statement from Caleb, the crime lab was immediately called. It smelled like homicide to them. The countertenor glanced at the spot where Haley was found, and honestly, the amount of blood there was shocking.<p>

Rachel appeared beside him, Blaine following her like a puppy, and she said, "According to the hospital, Haley Swift lost exactly two pints of blood."

"That is whole lot more than two pints," Blaine observed helpfully. Kurt restrained himself from giving him a scathing look and instead leant down to collect a sample of blood.

"You see how this blood is placed?" Kurt pointed out, motioning to the giant pools, which were beside some almost splattered -looking stains. The two were very different in appearance and shape.

"Yeah," Blaine said, "It says Haley was stabbed, which matches up with the pools of blood. But what about the splatters?"

Rachel nodded, then pointed her finger to where the small splatters were leading. She muttered, "Assuming that the person standing..." she moved Kurt to a certain spot, and then crouched on the ground in another. "So, maybe Haley fought back?"

Kurt stared at Rachel like she had grown three heads. "What are going on about?"

"Well, if my hunch is correct-" Rachel started before Blaine burst ot laughing.

"What, pray tell, is so funny?" Kurt asked the short, curly haired man in a sweater vest.

"She said hunch," Blaine giggled, "It reminded me of Scooby Doo, because they solve crimes, too!"

Rachel rolled her eyes and continued, "If I'm right and Haley was laying here, then there must have been someone standing over her that she could've stabbed, then pulled the knife away, causing the drips to be in a splatter formation. Where are the witnesses?"

Kurt looked over to a line of burly African American men and one girl, her pale skin standing out compared to the others. Though she too was burly and looked like she could crush Kurt at any second. "Over there."

Rachel stood and walked over, before saying, "We would like a DNA sample, so open up your mouths or we'll do it for you," she said curtly, before pulling out swabs.

The girl opened her mouth as wide as she could, allowing Rachel to swab the inside of her cheek.

* * *

><p>Blaine looked hesistantly at the crying junior opposite him, and cleared his throat. "So, Haley was your girlfriend?" Of course, that made Caleb cry harder. Blaine handed him a tissue awakwardly before asking, "Can you explain to me what happened?"<p>

"I just did," Caleb said, before wiping his eyes and trying to compose himself.

"Right," Blaine said, floundering for something to say. Kurt, who was observing him, decided to help him out some and walked into the interview room.

"Was Haley having any problems at school? Did she have any enemies?" Kurt asked, leaning against the door (not sexily at all, Blaine thought).

Caleb shrugged. "She would text me about her day sometimes. I knew that people didn't really like her because she liked to do charity work, and she honestly was never mean to anyone, but I know that she felt unpopular."

"How unpopular?" Kurt asked, for once his voice not demanding or loud. Blaine turned back to look at Kurt and noticed that his face looked very sullen.

"Well, I was her best friend," Caleb said, as if that explained everything. He went further, though, saying, "I go to that private school that everyone thinks is for snotty kids, and she went to the public school. And I'm definitely not the coolest guy around. I'm honestly glad she was my friend. I was there for her. I wanted to be there for her."

Kurt nodded slowly, before walking over to the steel table. "Do you recognize any of the following names? De'Andre Gossamer, Shane Reynolds, Rebecca Farly, Demitrius Stewart, and Angelo Martoni."

Caleb nodded. "Rebecca was horrible to Haley. She would push her around all the time, calling her mean names because she was a Christian and stuff. And De'Andre was her boyfriend, because he locked Haley in a Porta-Potty once. That was one phone call that nearly broke my heart," Caleb said, looking down.

"Thank you, Caleb," Kurt said earnestly, meaning every word, "I really appreciate you telling us this."

"I just want whoever killed her to be put away," Caleb said, sticking his hands in his pockets. "I loved her."

Blaine looked sadly at the junior and quickly stood, motioning for Caleb to do the same. "We'll call you as soon as news is heard."

* * *

><p>Puck was comparing DNA samples. Again. So far, no one's DNA matched that found in the blood splatter. He was getting frustrated. He was distracted from his thoughts by a small area on one strand. He zoomed in before grinning and writing down a name. Once looking over all other DNA samples, he knew he had found his guy.<p>

He ran to the kitchen, where Kurt could normally be found, and shouted, "De'Andre Gossamer!"

Kurt jumped, nearly spilling his coffee all over Blaine. "What?"

"De'Andre Gossamer," Puck said. "Because of an error, however unimportant, in his nucleotides, I can assure you that it is his DNA. I think he killed Haley, case closed."

"We have no motive or weapon," Krurt deadpanned, "Plus we still need to recover Haley's car."

Puck frowned, saying, "Dude, I totally thought I solved the case." He sulked out of the room, leaving Blaine laughing.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "He needs to stop spending so much time with Finn."

_(meanwhile, in the rough neighborhood)_

Rachel stared at Haley's car. It was nice, an upper-end red Honda, with an iPod still plugged in. With a small smile, Rachel noted that it was on a 'Caleb' playlist. Seems like someone had a little crush. After scouring the car for more evidence, none could be found. She sighed and took off her latex gloves, quickly regretting it, because she saw something shiny half-buried in the ground.

Slipping the gloves back on, she dug out what appeared to be a knife, coated in blood. She grinned and quickly bagged it, racing back to the lab.

* * *

><p>"Fingerprints report to be Haley Swift and Rebecca Farly," Puck said, pushing the knife to Kurt across the table, "but the blood shows De'Andre and Haley."<p>

"We have a weapon," Kurt muttered, "So let's go get out motive from Rebecca, shall we? For trying to stab both De'Andre and Haley?"

Rebecca was a larger girl, to be honest. And she would be pretty if she didn't try and dress like a call girl. The girl had on hooker make-up and her hair was fiercely curled. "What do you want?" She asked in a nasally voice. De'Andre was actually a good looking guy, what was he doing with her?

Kurt raised his eyebrows and asked, "Explain to us what happened a few nights ago."

"Well, Haley came by, thinkin' I wanted her charity. So I figured I could just take her stupid clothes and sell them for booze or somethin', I don't know..." Rebecca said. "Of course, she had a spaz attack when I did, which was pointless, because I thought she was bringing to me, so I just pulled out a knife and shanked the girl. I mean, it went a little deeper than I planned, but, whatevs. Then when De'Andre saw her running, he followed her."

"What for?" Kurt asked cautiously.

"Well, he's always thought she was pretty cool, walkin' around, sharing her Jesus junk and all that, which I never got," Rebecca deadpanned. "I was goin' to dump him anyway. Maybe he went to go beat up on her some more, I don't know, he's weird."

"Thank you, Rebecca," Kurt said. "You may go into the holding area. Can we get De'Andre in here?"

De'Andre was a nice looking guy, with a clean-shaved face and it was obvious he had pride in his appearance. He looked nervous, and he had a bandage wrapped around his bicep.

"Want to explain to me what happened?" Kurt asked, pointing to the injury.

"Well, I saw Haley running past, bleeding really badly," he said in a deep, soothing voice, "And I'd always felt bad for the girl, I never really wanted to lock her in a Porta-Potty, it kinda just happened. Anyway, I ran after her, and it was pouring down rain, so I tried to help her. Then some lunatic came up, kneed me where it hurts, picked her up and took her off. Is she alright?" De'Andre asked, brown eyes looking mournful.

"She's dead," Kurt said evenly. De'Andre looked down.

"Oh."

"We have all evidence pointing to Rebecca. Do you believe she stabbed Haley, killing her?" Kurt asked, looking at the man across him.

De'Andre nodded. "Lock her up. Please lock her up."

* * *

><p>Kurt glared at the stupid blonde guy flirting with Blaine as he ordered the coffee. But he wasn't jealous or anything. Nope. Okay, yes, he was.<p>

And why does Kurt feel jealous when he sees the tall, blonde Abercrombie flirt shamelessly with him in that stupid coffee shop, with all of the tables for two? It's not like Blaine's his boyfriend or anything. It's not like Kurt even likes Blaine in any sense of the word. The words Blaine and boyfriend in the same sentence send butterflies to Kurt's stomach. Damn Anderson's stupid hazel eyes and olive skin. Damn him.

But of course, Blaine had to walk over at that current time in his rant, leaving Kurt's face to turn beet red.

"Okay, Kurt, can I ask you a favor?"

* * *

><p>Blaine curled up on Kurt's couch and smiled as he put in When Harry Met Sally. "I love this movie," Blaine said.<p>

Kurt grinned and sat beside him on the couch, nodding. "I know, me too. Hey, do you want some popcorn or coffee or something? I can order a pizza or whatever."

"Thanks for letting me hang here until I can find a new apartment. Being evicted sucks," Blaine grinned, watching as the opening credits rolled onto the screen, and remembered the two's coffee non-date earlier.

"Don't worry about it," Kurt said softly. Blaine looked over to see Kurt smiling softly at the movie and he just couldn't help himself. He leaned in and pecked him on the cheek softly, hoping the reaction wouldn't be too horrible.

"You missed," Kurt said evenly, trying not to blush.

"Huh?" Blaine said before Kurt turned to kiss him full on the mouth. Needless to say, the movie didn't end up being watched.

* * *

><p><strong>Review?<strong>


End file.
